I'll Mop the Floor While You Watch
by Night Strider
Summary: When Mitsui rejoins the team, most of his curiosity is given to the freshman; we wonder why…but he wonders even more agonizingly why. Shounen ai. MitRuMit. One shot.


I'll Mop the Floor While You Watch Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Summary: When Mitsui rejoins the team, most of his curiosity is given to the freshman; we wonder why…but he wonders even more agonizingly why. Shounen ai. MitRuMit. One shot.

A/N: If you're looking for sweet romance, this isn't the right fic. I don't really know what to make of this but it isn't much of a love story. Just friendship with, err, insinuations.

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'What shall I do now?'

That's the question I was stuck with the moment I rejoined the basketball club. Well, it was given that I should comply almost immediately with every order the captain gorilla made, but there were just so many changes in two years that I found myself not knowing where to begin. For one thing my hair was clean cut and the novel feeling of it lent some uneasiness to just about every movement my head made. For another, it was the bandages all over me that were so irritating. But most heavily, it was the nostalgic yet unfamiliar feeling of wearing basketball attire again after what must've felt like a century. Adaptability was so hard to keep up with but then again, it was just a way of doing justice to my deliberate, unreasonable absence. Then there went the conditional prerequisite; was I still as good as I was? I knew I was; but there was something inside me that kept on rankling and doubting my self-assurance. It felt very much like an intrapersonal battle; me versus myself.

'What shall I do now?' the question loomed again and it just sort of came to me; of course, what else? I would take a shot from the three-point line like I always did. Easy. So I went, and precisely at that instant everyone around literally gathered his attention to offer it to me. I'm not really sure if I gritted my teeth at that, being so watched; like what I've said, it wasn't so good and complete a feeling. When you're being stared at like that as if you were naked, you can't help but to feel like giving them the middle finger. What the fuck was wrong with these guys? Hell, I was just taking a shot after 500 million years; what exactly was so WOW about that? Is this my meed for screwing up for a while? Irritatingly curious glances? Attention or admiration is tolerable as far as anything's concerned but when one puts a finger on the excess, it's going too far. That was going too far. I'm not exactly an any-kind-of-attention-will-do guy and I think people should moderate their nosiness at times.

Alright, so I took a shot and it was in. It wasn't killer; it was even terrifically easy. So the mere thing didn't startle me but what did were my teammates. They clapped like crazy and started putting on very awed and odd faces like they'd just been blessed by Jesus or some prophet. Their cheers reverberated in the dead air for some time and several hands tapped my shoulders. It was very reminiscent of my championship days in Takeishi High; though of course, this was nothing but a sand's grain compared to the beach of greatness that I pulled up at that time. Really, was I the only one NOT shocked about it? It appeared to be so, what with all the narrow breadth of mind and sense of glory these people had. Anyway, I just smiled morally; I say 'morally' because plainly speaking, I was indebted to every one of them.

The praises I received after sinking in many shots were utterly exaggerated; 'Sugoi, 'Great!', 'You're the best,' 'It's great!', and other forgotten banalities of shallowly amused people. It's a wonder how simple feats make people stupid; or maybe, hard as it was to admit it, it was just a part of their sympathy for pathetic little me. Sigh.

So that is the brief prelude of my re-entrance to Shohoku basketball club, and the sequel followed almost directly in a considerably short while.

I made friends, discounting the other seniors I knew. Miyagi and Sakuragi were before my fistic acquaintance and it was surprising that I speedily made up with them. Sakuragi was the shnook cum oddball; very fun to be with and obviously an airhead, in a rather comical way that is. His mind acted inside a tinier circle than I expected, which was strangely so characteristic of the notorious bully I knew him to be. His arrogance was exorbitant, big time; but everyone could relate to him. Except one person. That's Kaede Rukawa.

The first time I saw him made a defining and swift impression on me; he wasn't like nor liked by anyone of us. He seemed to be indifferent to the world and vice versa. He didn't speak a lot; in fact, he didn't speak at all. I don't think he had better excuse for silence than that he didn't want to talk; maybe he was one of those deeply ponderous people who, in result, become perennial imponderables. I thought that he was a cold blooded little guy. I say 'little' because he's two years behind me but physically speaking—forget it.

So yeah, our relationship was nonexistent, as was his relationship with each and every one of us. To tell the truth, I hate seeing someone like that, especially when I have to put up with him every goddamn day. I hate teammates who are hard-headed and inveterate loners and everything. I had a kid like that in junior high who didn't talk to anyone and since I was captain, I had to make him to. It wasn't healthy for the team; it usually puffed out the esprit de corps just because it was difficult to instruct him during plays. There was always a common misunderstanding with this junior high team mate; a language barrier. Like for instance, because of his idleness to talk there was a propensity that he'd say anything in monosyllable. On the strength of my observation, I right away trusted on the hunches that Rukawa was like that because he was so quiet you'd think he was allergic to our crowd; a completely helpless sociopath. I noticed that Sakuragi often made fun of him about everything—from his 'foxy' looks to his 'retardation'---but Rukawa didn't always trouble to snap back, nor did it seem as though he felt like accusing himself of callousness. Perfectly impassive creature, that's what he was, and for some 'seniorly' reason I was tempted to come to his rescue. I don't think he remembered the mop accident (when I jammed it straight on his temple and blood trickled down on his cheeks), and this gave me enough license to intercept; I would make him mingle, what was I captain for back then?

So I made up my mind to clinch the matter. I learned that Rukawa was in charge of mopping the floor after practice. Sakuragi and the others were the morning floor sweepers because the manager figured that he and Rukawa would ramble unwatched 101 percent on the money if they were logged on the same schedule. So I came to Rukawa one time right after everyone left. Just my luck, there he was. It was a darkly colored day outside, I could tell. And away from it, sheltered under the gym's roof, he was doing everything so perfunctorily like a machine. I said 'hi' and the moment I said this, he stopped as if I just went behind him and pulled his plug from the outlet. Geez, I wonder if he thought he was going to die if he followed my example and returned my greeting with a succinct 'hello'. He didn't speak, as was natural of him, but looked at me in increasing stillness. I didn't read right away what those colorless eyes (they seemed particularly lucid to me despite the heavy hue of blue in them) were saying so I repeated the word which was probably the most stupidly useless thing to do. I could've just said hello instead. Anyway, his gaze turned steadier and I couldn't describe well his temper, but right then I knew what he wanted to say. It was bordering between 'what the hell are you still hanging around here for?' and 'get out, I'm busy cleaning and I'm obsessed with this mop.' Or simply, 'you're not needed,' or anything as unpleasant as those. I realized a few seconds after that there was something more to it; I was stepping on his mop's cloth. 'Sorry,' I said, and jumped back to give way.

He nodded and went on with his leisure activity. I was being lured to tell him how boring mopping the floor was but sure, that might only gain me a negative point. Still, I don't think he'd know that this floor-sweeping business was boring him to death unless I gave a hint. Still, I didn't; I just looked at him while gauging our awkward situation and remembered that perhaps he didn't even know me. I don't remember him clapping and hurrahing at my three point showdown. So I introduced myself the next thing. He nodded for the 100th time while swinging the mop, without even making it clear to me whether he knew me or not. I was kinda ticked off by this and without checking myself, I said it. 'I bet what you're doing is boring.' It just came out of me, being no longer capable of sitting on the silence. Anyhow, there was a change; he actually emitted a low 'yes' for an answer. His voice didn't ring quite falsely and negatively, which was a good thing. And he answered by using his voice box! But most importantly, he agreed with my comment. So I right away assumed that his disposition had taken for the softer and of course, the rest of his actions would have to follow. Somehow, he was doing the whole thing less stiffly than he did a few minutes ago. If only he could allow my courteous intrusion to be a conduit to his, er, affection--whatever, I could make things easier for us both.

But I had plans to save me. I offered to help him and grabbed a mop from the cupboard inside the locker room. I started cackling about some petty stuff, you know, beating around the bush crap while mopping with him. I fired some questions and most of the times he just nodded or shook his head after receiving inquisitions answerable by yes or no. it was such a pain in the ass that he wouldn't elaborate, not to mention he thoroughly ignored my other questions that needed explanations. Alright, I told myself, kept quiet for a while, and mopped along. Then after an agonizing eternity of silence,

'You're doing it wrong.' He said. I saw him glaring at me and at the spot that I 'cleaned.'

'What?'

'Look what you've done.' He said blankly and gave me an incriminating glance. I looked at my toiled territory and found out that,

'You just soaped the spot that I already dried.' He continued.

'Err, sorry,' I murmured and stopped at my doodling. I had never felt so embarrassed before! I wanted to dip my head on the bleach pail!

He didn't reply but his look told me everything I had to know; I fucked up what he sweated for and I was done for. He snatched the mop away from me and went over the whole floor the second time around. I didn't leave him and while he was doing all this, I offered him a deal.

'Rukawa, I think you need help doing all this. I'll be glad if I can be of any use to you. I swear I'll do better the next time. I don't really know how to mop; they didn't teach us how to at Takeishi, but if you can teach me---'

'What do you want?' He went point blank.

What do I want? His cooperation, isn't it? I gave it a thought.

'Err, I---Okay.' I breathed in and out. The beat of my heart didn't feel like mine at all at that moment. 'I need someone to guard me in the offense during practice. Akagi said we should group ourselves into pairs and practice defense and offense; you're the only one (besides Miyagi and Akagi, and both already have partners) who can match me. So I was wondering if you'll be wanting to take me.' I smiled after this.

'Alright.' he said in a voice that seemed to just about simmer down.

'But what can I do for you? I can really help you with this mess floor, you know.' I insisted.

'I'll do it by myself.'

Then something lit up in my head. And the dots were connected.

'I know! I can treat you to a coffee break after every mopping (and moping) session. Agree?'

He didn't object, which probably meant it was worth his consideration since after that, we found ourselves drinking coffee at Figaro. He didn't show signs of being grateful though; he was just quiet the ENTIRE freaking time. And that's how I started sitting by him while he cleaned the entire bloody stadium floor. We also began going out for a coffee break almost every practice. He also kept his promise that we would work out on both our defense and offense, which reduced our gulf-like gap into just an interstice. He didn't exactly change just because we started hanging out together (according to my observation), his impermeability was just the same; he was blank, wordless, and snobbish as always until one Tuesday afternoon.

I obtained permission from the team to miss that day's practice because I had to work on a group project for Physics; I was threatened that my professor was going to flunk me right out if I didn't drag myself in. We labored on it in the science lab and it was like three and a half hours past basketball practice dismissal when the group leader decided to call it a day. Swiftly, the day advanced and the sun undid imagine my surprise to discover that there was Rukawa outside the lab's door. He said he was waiting for me and though he didn't mention it, he was going to have coffee with me. I don't really know if he wanted to or was it just out of benevolence? Either way, he was acting completely out of his character.

I felt strange because—hello?----he was the one who offered me to go 'coffeeing'. That was the first time. And one more thing; I didn't pay the bills. I thought Rukawa was just sick or anything, but the following days proved to be consistent to this Tuesday behavior of his; from then on, we took turns taking care of the bills.

The official games poured in and by this time, I was officially Rukawa's pal. Alright, remember what I said about my loner team mate in Takeishi who messed up on hard court? Well, that loser's case isn't applicable to Rukawa. Rukawa is excellent even if he doesn't seem like someone who listens to the coach and captain. He is a great player who has his own way of securing a match's victory. He can do without me forcing him to cooperate; that's what I learned when I first saw him on fire. I had to admit that underestimated him before. Now, well, would it suffice to say that I admire him? It began one Tuesday afternoon when he finally took the initiative to invite me.

END

A/N: I told you it isn't a real love story. Hahaha. Thanks for reading. Have a nice day!

PS. Donde son autores de Yaoi? Anyway, I just read a flame on a yaoi (RuHana) story and the flamer said something about yaoi writers being the ones who are PATHETIC, DELUSIONAL, and STUPID because apparently, WE hate pairing hunky SD boys to OC's because it makes us jealous. I don't know what to say of it so I didn't comment (I let Bet You Love That take care of them). My point is; uh yeah, long live Yaoi.


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